


Death (For This You Were Born)

by excuseme_howdareyou



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Bruce's not A+ parenting, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tim Drake, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tim Drake-centric, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excuseme_howdareyou/pseuds/excuseme_howdareyou
Summary: “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox,” he began,” I’m sorry to tell you, Tim Drake’s body was found three days ago in Rome, Italy…”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 162





	Death (For This You Were Born)

**Author's Note:**

> for @alculai who requested the following for the writing challenge  
> Emotion: Hearbroken/sad/depressed  
> Characters: Tim Drake, the rest of the Batfam when they find out  
> Word(s):Death

Song of choice: "For This You Were Born" by UNSECRET

* * *

“ _Come on, come on, where is it?” Tim grumbled to himself as he practically tore apart his closet in search of his glove. It was **right** here! Or at least it had been last night when he got off patrol with Bruce at 2am. Tim had come home from a long night, exhausted and sore, and just kinda… threw off his uniform and tossed it into the closet. The uniform had been right where he threw it when he got dressed for tonight’s patrol. Minus one green glove. _

_Tim scratched his head and stared at his other hand, his bare hand. He needed that glove!_

“ _Looking for this?” Batman popped up behind him, helpfully holding up the missing glove._

“ _Guukk!” Tim screeched._

* * *

If he didn’t know any better, Tim would think the night was getting colder. But no, this was the height of summer in  Rome , and  Rome summers were hot and sticky. 

‘ _Heh, guess I got the sticky part down,’_ he chuckled to himself and spared a glance at his palm. The night was dark, but the streetlights just strong enough to show the glimmer of blood. With a grimace, he pressed his hand back against his side. Shit, it wasn’t even stinging anymore. Just a dull ache and he could feel himself shivering. It felt like the night was getting colder but he knew better. 

This alley was dark and dirty and whatever little shelter he found behind this dumpster would only last so long. ‘ _Come on, Tim, time to get going,’_ he encouraged himself. With his free hand, he reached up and grasped the side of the dumpster to pull himself up. 

‘ _Just a… just a little bit further.’_

* * *

“Bruce Wayne?” 

Bruce looked up from speaking with Lucius and saw two men in pressed trousers and simple button ups. Law enforcement of some kind, his senses told him, seeing the faint outline of a firearm at the calf of the taller one. “Hello,” he greeted them with his best Wayne smile,” How can I help you gentlemen?”

Just like he was expecting, they both held up their wallets sideways. “I’m Agent Markos of INTERPOL,” the shorter, blonde one said,” This is Agent Paul, we have some questions to ask you about your son.”

Internally, Bruce was grimacing.  _‘Oh geez, what has Jason done this time?’_ But outside he appeared worried,” Oh boy, they didn’t cause an international incident, did they?”

While the taller one continued to glare him in that subtle way, the shorter one at least attempted to be polite about the whole thing. “Mr. Wayne, when was the last time you saw your son?” he asked. 

“Just yesterday I spoke to Dick, we talked on the phone for a little bit about his work,” Bruce answered readily enough. Granted, the work they talked about was Nightwing cases, but he could let the agents assume he meant they talked about Dick’s work as a police officer. “Damian I saw this morning as he went to school.”

“And your other son?”

“Jason’s happily running the Ice Lounge as far as I know.”

Whatever  mock- politeness was on the  taller  agent’s face dissolved as he all but scowled at him. “Your  _other_ son,” he prompted through gritted teeth.  His younger  counterpart discreetly hushed him and one elbow pressed against his side until he stepped back and let the blond take the lead again. 

It was Lucius who figured it out first. “Oh my god,” his jaw dropped open,”  _Tim_ . It’s Tim, isn’t it? Is he alright?” He looked between the two agents, becoming more anxious as he looked at their contrite faces. “Please, tell us.  What’s happened? ” he practically pleaded. 

Agent Markos took a slow, measured breath. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox,” he began,” I’m sorry to tell you, Tim Drake’s body was found three days ago in Rome, Italy…”

‘ _No…’_

All the breath left Bruce’s body in one big whoosh.

“...Our medical examiner reports he passed on sometime last week…” Agent Markos was still speaking but… but Bruce could barely hear him, could barely comprehend what he was saying. 

“...We’re trying to establish the last time he had contact with any of his family, try to figure out why he was in Rome…”

‘Tim… _no, no… not_ _ **Tim…**_ _’_

“...-ayne? Mr. Wayne?-”

Then all went black.

* * *

_ Boarding schools weren’t big on the whole holiday thing. Sure, they put up decorations wherever there was room, allowing the professors to hang wreaths on their classroom doors and turned a blind eye when a student decked out his room in flashing colored lights. But beyond winter break and the decorations, the holidays were wholly unappetizing is one were to stay there for the Christmas season.  _

_ Mom and Dad weren’t able to fly back for the holidays, a new room of artifacts had been discovered on their dig and everything needed to be closely studied and catalogued. Or at least, that’s what he thought needed to be done. He wished they would tell him what they found, what was so exciting that they couldn’t fly back for just two days. Heck, he’d even take one day.  _

_ He could go home for winter break, head back to Drake Manor and hang out for two weeks before classes started after New Years. But the manor was empty and he doubted the cleaning service bothered to put up wreaths and lights while they kept the place tidy.  Here, in his half of the dorm room, there were lights strung up around his four poster bed and a tiny little pine tree on his nightstand. That would have to be festive enough. And hey! He actually had the dorm to himself for once, as his roommate went back to Philadelphia to visit family.  _

_ It wasn’t such a bad Christmas, he surmised. He even got a little present from Batman when they finished patrol last night and a day off, telling him to enjoy Christmas. That had to have been big, Tim guessed, because he was pretty sure Bruce was Jewish and didn’t think he celebrated Christmas. Then he wondered if perhaps it was Dick who celebrated Christmas and that’s why Bruce got him a present, because he got Dick one too and thought might as well get both Robins something for the holiday. He wondered if Dick had driven home for the holiday, taking a weekend off from work and he wondered if they set up a big Christmas tree in the Wayne Manor. He bet they did. That sounded like something Alfred would do. _

_ He wondered if when Bruce sent him home for the holiday, did he know he was sending Tim back to an empty dorm at the boarding school? _

* * *

Tim used to think Rome was beautiful. Hated how hot and muggy it got, but dreamed of vacationing here whenever the cold winter of Gotham got to him. Seriously thought of opening a safehouse in the city somewhere, just so he could  make an excuse of a case in Europe and escape to Italy for a week.  Let the sun and heat warm up his bones.

N ow, he hated the city. Hated how it was unfamiliar and when he stumbled out of the alley, he had no freaking clue where he was.  Didn’t even know which was way north, which was really stupid because that wouldn’t help him in the slightest even if he knew because Tim didn’t know where the hell he was in the city. Now he hated how hot and muggy it was and yet he still felt cold, hated how he could feel the stickiness of sweat along his hairline. His breaths came in faster and shallower, could feel his heartbeat staccatoing in his chest.

Help. He needed help. It was stupid to go out without his gear tonight. Stupid to go walking around Rome without his Red Robin gear, but he just wanted to be Tim for a night. Just wanted to explore the city a little bit, enjoy the old architect that was so different from Gotham and photograph buildings he’s never seen  before . 

Just wanted to celebrate having dismantled a serial killing cult and spend one last night in Rome before heading home. 

Just didn’t think he’d stumble across one last surviving member of the cult sacrificing a young woman to their dark god. Didn’t think he’d have to fight for his life as a man/beast/shadow of a thing bore down on him with blades and knives. Didn’t think that when he twisted the thing’s arm beyond having broke it, it’d turn to him and  _ laugh _ . Didn’t think it’d laugh in his terrified face and then a long claw would pierce under and through his ribs. 

Didn’t think he’d be running through the dark alleys of Rome and desperately searching for help.

He tried his phone again, pressing the little button on the side that would send out a distress beacon. He was halfway across the world, but Batman would be able to get it, right? He’d be able to see that Tim was in trouble, and he’d come to the rescue right? Even if  Bruce couldn’t get here in time, he’d call Superman or the Flash couldn’t he?

‘ _Superman,’_ Tim realized suddenly, thinking himself very stupid. “Kon-el,” he rasped, growing suddenly wearier when he spoke,” Kon… Connor…help.” He prayed he would hear him, like Kon promised he would always hear Tim if he called out to him. 

Then he remembered Kon was dead and a whine of despair escaped his throat.

* * *

Jason announced his presence with a bang and shouting, as always. He kicked the door to Bruce’s study open with all the force of a hurricane and stormed in. “I swear to God if this is another one your fucking convoluted plans to have another one of your Robins infiltrate a secret organization,  I’ll rip your heart out through your-” he bellowed then fell silent once he got a look at Bruce. 

He… he didn’t look good. 

Bruce sat at his desk, supposedly going over the report that had been “acquired” from INTERPOL. Only… only he wasn’t reading. He wasn’t even looking at them. Bruce sat at his desk, head bowed and hands buried in his hair, gripping so tight his fingers had long gone white. His shoulders were trembling. 

“It’s real, Jason,” he spoke in a ragged voice,” He’s really-” His mouth clacked shut with a click, unable to even speak it but somehow unable to even voice his grief with sobs. 

Jason’s heart leapt up into his throat. “It’s not a…” he breathed in shock and disbelief,” You mean the replacement’s really-”

“ _He was not a replacement!”_ Bruce shouted at him with all the gentleness of a slap to the face. Shaking fingers slammed against the desk as he shot to his feet to scream at his second eldest. “Tim is my son just as much as you and Dick and Damian! He was not a replacement or a spare or a pretend son as I’ve heard you call him on more than one occasion! He was my _son_ and now he’s _dead_ and-” His face fell and Jason could _see_ the cracks in his armor as Bruce all but fell back into his seat,” _My son is dead_ _and I didn’t even realize he was missing.”_

* * *

B ruce was… Bruce was sure taking his damn time getting here, Tim thought as he staggered down the street. Or was it  _ la via _ ? Huh, he could’ve sworn he knew Italian, but at the moment Tim couldn’t remember any word in Italian to save his life. All he knew was there was cobbled stone beneath his feet and rough walls that scratched his palm as he made his way along.

There were no more lights in this area. Tim wondered why there were no streetlights, that had to be the only reason why it was so dark. It was late at night, he knew that, but why did it have to be so dark? Putting one foot in front of another was a monumental effort.  Fingers scrambled along the wall until he felt what had to be a door. There was wood and metal, and yes, a handle. 

A door. A door meant inside a building and inside meant people. Help. He had found help. Tim grasped the handle for a brief second before slamming his hand against the wood thrice. The sound echoed in the dark, but no voices answered him. It was late, it was night, maybe they didn’t hear him? He slammed his hand twice more. When no answer came, he tried the handle. 

It was unlocked. Unlocked and open as he squeezed the handle and leaned his entire weight against the  wood. He lurched inside, barely catching himself against the door before falling to the floor. It was dark inside but that was okay, it was late, it was night, they were probably asleep.  “Help,” he called out, little more than a rasp,” Hello?”

He stepped forward and tripped over… something, and fell. There was carpet beneath his fingers as he tried to catch himself. An odd thing to notice as he tried to stand again, but that’s what he noticed. As well as how he didn’t have enough strength in his arm to push himself up. He felt so… weak. Weak and useless. Couldn’t even stand up  from the floor. What would Damian think of him as he was now? What would  _ Bruce  _ think?

A sob escaping his throat, Tim rolled onto his side and pressed a hand against his stomach. It didn’t even hurt anymore, but there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him ‘pressure, keep pressure on it’. He just had to keep pressure on it until help could get here. He just had to keep pressure on it until Bruce got here. 

Tim laid on the floor and  cried as he waited for someone to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I meant to incorporate the rest of the Batfam, but mostly just wanted to write a drabble. So this ended up becoming more Bruce and Tim centric


End file.
